


love me, with all the abandon of sudden wild rain (or, more casually: Operation Omegamon)

by veilofimagination



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Jogress Bonds, Jogress Evolution | DNA Digivolution, Love, M/M, Motomiya Daisuke is here for your epic love story needs, Operation Omegamon, Pining, Redemption, Second Chances, Sidekicks Equal Soulmates, Weddings, Winning Taichi Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veilofimagination/pseuds/veilofimagination
Summary: this is a love story, i promise.it just comes the long way around. but this is a story of jogress bonds, and sidekicks and soulmates, and Operation Omegamon: a quest to get Taichi back. this is a story where Yamato fights for a second chance, Taichi protects his heart, and Daisuke is a bleeding heart romantic, turning the tables on his senpai, wing-maning the whole thing, and it begins here, at a wedding:Taichi Yagami. In the flesh. As bright and loud and obnoxiously bewitching as always. (Gods, it’s been how long since Yamato saw him? Three—four years? It simultaneously feels like it was yesterday and also an eternity ago).
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya, Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida & Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya, Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya, Takaishi Takeru | T.K. Takaishi/Yagami Hikari | Kari Kamiya
Comments: 48
Kudos: 106





	1. A Wedding in Four Parts

**Author's Note:**

> I was stuck in a line waiting for a covid test and I forgot to download my other fic offline and couldn't figure out how to access it offline, but i was bored and this 3-part story happened. Next chapter of my other fic is coming, I promise (to those of you who may read both and be like HEY wtf).

**Part I: A Speech**

_in a world_   
_full of_   
_temporary things_   
_you are_   
_a perpetual_   
_feeling._

  
― _Sanober Khan_

* * *

“I know, I know—usually the father-of-the-bride gives this speech, but I challenged my father to a table tennis match for the right to speak here today, and absolutely crushed him, so you all get me instead.”

The small reception hall erupts into laughter. Yamato stiffens in his chair at the head table, where he’s sat next to Takeru, who also happens to be the groom. He reaches for his wine glass before realizing his hand is shaking and quickly shoves it into his lap where it’s blocked from view by the elaborate tablecloth. (It’s a pointless recovery—everyone is too captivated, by the loud and beguiling personality at the podium, to notice Yamato’s unease, anyway).

Dragging his eyes up from his wine glass, Yamato’s eyes settle on the boisterous figure: the speaker’s lanky form is hidden behind the podium, microphone lazily held in hand, mega-watt smile plastered on, eyes shining with mirth and mischief, and hair wild and untamed, despite the formal setting. Yamato’s heart constricts in his chest.

Taichi Yagami. In the flesh. As bright and loud and obnoxiously bewitching as always. (Gods, it’s been how long since Yamato saw him? Three—four years? It simultaneously feels like it was yesterday and also an eternity ago).

“I can’t tell you all how pleased I am that this day has finally come,” Taichi is saying, leaning casually against the podium, “And I do mean, _finally._ I think I speak for a lot of us here when I say that fate has been propelling us in this direction for quite some time now.”

(Yamato pictures angels, bursts of light, and arrows hurling towards him, his hand clutched tightly in another’s).

“It’s honestly hard for me to believe that it’s been _fifteen_ years”—Taichi grips the side of the podium with his free hand, leaning forward in mock frustration—“since the first time I told Takeru to look after my baby sister. They’ve basically been with each other ever since. Damn, Takeru, what took you so long to make this happen? Empires have risen and fallen in the time it took you to get here.”

(Yamato thinks of darkness, and fighting, and failure, cradling another in his arms after barely arriving in time).

“Sorry!” Takeru calls out, sheepishly. He turns to grin at Yamato, who tries to offer his brother a smile in return.

“I mean, what can we expect? This is a man that wore fedoras and other stupid hats for a good portion of his life.” From the other side of Yamato, Daisuke lets out small whoop of agreement and the head table all laughs. “Hikari, are you sure about this? There may still be time to get out of here. Just say the word,” Taichi adds in a stage whisper, winking.

(Yamato remembers slamming doors, fists striking flesh, and shouting, lots of shouting).

Hikari laughs good-naturedly, shaking her head at her brother.

“Alrighty then,” Taichi chuckles. “Suit yourself.” He pauses, glances down at the podium. “I actually have notes here—part of the table tennis conditions—and I’ve so far improvised everything. Sorry Dad.” He grins down at where his parents are sitting.

“We expected this, son!” Susumu teases from a table near the front. The look on his face is bursting with pride, gazing fondly upon his daughter and new son-in-law.

“I suspected as much,” Taichi replies, “Back on track. Hikari: we’ve been through a lot together. Shared more experiences than a lot of siblings get to in their lifetimes. Not all of it has been easy—we’ve fought, you’ve done things I’ve disagreed with, I’ve done _loads_ of things you’ve disagreed with.”

(Yamato recalls dust, and dirt, and falling through the ground).

“But through all of that—even the worst parts—you’ve always remained the kindest, most caring, and most loving person I’ve ever known. You’ve been there for me at every turn, whether it’s something as simple as bringing food down to the football pitch as you know I’ve forgotten—”

“Again!” Hikari chimes in.

Taichi rolls his eyes. “Or helping me haul out the giant digi-sized flyswatter.”

“Again!” chime in multiple people seated across the head table—Takeru and Hikari, as well as Miyako, Mimi and Meiko, seated to Hikari’s right, and Daisuke and Iori to Yamato’s left.

Taichi gazes adoringly at his sister, adding, sweetly: “I can’t imagine having lived this life or gone on any of these adventures without you by my side.”

(Yamato thinks of overlapping heartbeats, tightly grasped hands, and a forearm grazing his).

“You’ve taught me so much—about believing in others, about finding our light, about hope, about family and friendship.” Taichi pauses. “And the both of you have taught me so much about love.”

(Yamato swears Taichi’s eyes skim him briefly. He feels hot under the scrutiny).

“So, Takeru.” Taichi pivots at the podium until he faces Takeru head on. “This brings me to you.” Taichi pauses for effect, raising one eyebrow in a small taunt.

Yamato twists in his chair to watch Takeru and Hikari (and to avoid Taichi’s gaze). Next to him, Takeru gasps and ducks to the side, pretending to hide behind his bride. Hikari turns in her chair to pat Takeru’s head fondly, at which Takeru straightens up and pecks Hikari softly on the cheek before turning back to look at Taichi.

“I am trusting you with my sister, the most precious thing in the world to me. She is amazing, beautiful, and a bit of a handful,” Taichi continues, holding his thumb and index finger up and slowly widening the gap between them. Hikari sticks her tongue out at Taichi, who mimics the gesture, before adding: “But absolutely worth every moment.”

Hikari blushes and leans into Takeru, who kisses the top of her head. Yamato smiles (truly, if anything makes him believe in love, it’s these two).

“I expect you to treat her like the princess I think she is, and the _heroine_ she actually is,” Taichi instructs, smiling. “Take care of this wonderful, wonderful woman, because there’s only one of her, and she’s so important. Make her the happiest woman on any damn world. She deserves only the best,” Taichi adds, slightly quieter. “I have no doubt that you will do all of this—you always have—but in case you slack off, you’ll be hearing from me.”

Taichi lifts his wine glass off the podium and takes a few steps forward so he’s standing in front of Hikari and Takeru, just an arms-length from Yamato (he could reach out and touch him, if they weren’t in public, and if he had the courage).

“So, to wrap this all up,” Taichi says, grinning wildly (Yamato’s heart skips a beat). He raises his glass up to the room. “I propose a toast: to my sister—the Light of my life and everyone else’s too—and the man she loves and whose Hopes finally came true. I wish you a lifetime of happiness. Congratulations.”

Everyone echoes the cheers, raising their glasses. Taichi turns back to the happy couple, clinking his glass against Takeru’s before leaning over the table to capture Hikari an one-armed hug.

“Thank you, Taichi,” Hikari whispers before letting him go. She smiles at him and Taichi grins back at her, before shifting slightly to embrace Takeru. As Taichi’s arm loops around Takeru’s shoulders, his face appears over the other one and his eyes lift to connect with Yamato’s.

 _Hi_ , those brown eyes say, _I’ve missed you._

* * *

**Part II: A Dance**

_the sapphire depth  
of my own love...startles  
and warms  
and wounds my soul._

_― Sanober Khan_

* * *

The dance floor is full. Taichi’s got Hikari by the hand, twirling her around and around. After multiple spins, Hikari collapses into her brother, laughing, and, smiling, Taichi passes her back to her new husband. Hikari melts against Takeru’s chest, and they sway gently, in contrast to the relatively upbeat tempo.

Mimi swoops in to steal Taichi away, and Taichi pulls her close in an exaggerated tango pose, before they march—hand in hand and cheek to cheek—across the dance floor and towards the bar. (Yamato’s eyes follow Taichi the entire time, watching the way his dress pants are just form fitting enough to show off toned thighs, how his muscles move under the white dress shirt, how his arm is taut where his hand holds Mimi’s tightly).

Once at the bar, Taichi’s hand lands on Daisuke’s back. He whispers something that causes Daisuke to release Ken for long enough to purchase and slide shots to everyone—Taichi, Ken, Mimi, Koushiro, Jou, Miyako, Iori and Meiko, as well as a few people Yamato doesn’t know, presumably dates. 

Yamato sips his drink, in a spot that’s slightly away from the rest of everyone; just out of earshot, just far enough away maybe no one will make him engage in small talk.

“Yamato!” Daisuke calls, craning his head around the others to throw Yamato a death stare. “Shots! Now!” He taps the bar impatiently.

Yamato obediently peels himself off the barstool he’s sat upon and wanders over to the group. Once there, Jou throws an arm around him, smiling, and Daisuke hands him a shot glass.

“One, two, three! Go!” Mimi squeals, and everybody lifts their shot glasses, knocking it back.

“Yuck, awful,” Jou mutters beside him, between coughs. His comment registers somewhere in Yamato’s thoughts, but truly, Yamato’s barely listening. His attention has been diverted, everything else purely background now—Jou’s comments on the drink, the burning in the back of his throat, the pang that’s been in his chest for weeks now—and he’s now singularly focused on one thing happening on the other side of the half-circle—

There’s a guy _kissing_ Taichi.

(Yamato’s heart plummets through the floor).

“Ah, yes,” Jou says, quietly, following Yamato’s gaze. “That’s Ren. I guess you wouldn’t have met him yet.”

Yamato watches as Taichi and Ren break apart. Taichi’s smiling, as he wraps his arm around Ren’s waist; the black-haired stranger gazing at Taichi, adoringly. Yamato clears his throat. “Um, no, I haven’t.” (He doesn’t want to. He preferred being blissfully ignorant of _Ren’s_ existence).

“He’s a great guy,” Jou adds.

“Uh,” Yamato says, throat dry and uncomfortable. “How long—How long have they been together?”

Jou hums. “Six? Seven months maybe? Not terribly long.”

“Right,” Yamato manages. (Yamato knows his grip is too tight around the glass he’s holding. His eyes are too focused on the _happy couple_ on the other side of the circle. His jaw is clenched too tightly.)

“Yeah,” Jou says, softly, “It’s good though, I think. He was pretty sad for a while there, so it’s good to see him happy again.”

“Happy,” Yamato repeats, dumbly. “Of course.”

“He didn’t deserve to be miserable forever,” a new voice has drifted into their conversation, pointed and filled with warning.

Yamato looks up to see Koushiro, who has taken a step back to join Yamato and Jou, situated a few paces from the others. Koushiro is staring at him, lips pursed, and arms crossed over, glass of something-on-the-rocks clutched in his hand.

“I—” Yamato starts, but Jou cuts him off: “How’s Sora?”

Yamato knew the question would come eventually. He takes a swig of his drink, forcing himself to settle down. “She’s…” He stops, swallows hard, and lies: “She’s sorry she couldn’t be here.”

* * *

**Part III: A Colloquy**

_we always knew  
that good times came  
with termination contracts  
even if we weren't quite ready _   
_to sign it._

_― Sanober Khan_

* * *

“I thought I might find you out here,” Takeru says, as he joins Yamato on the hotel balcony, just outside the reception hall. Takeru’s ties undone, hanging loosely around his neck. He’s discarded his suit jacket at some point and the sleeves of his dress shirt are pushed up to his elbows.

“Sorry, I needed some air,” Yamato replies, shaking his head. (If he shakes his head hard enough, or enough times, maybe the images of Taichi on the dance floor—wrapped in someone else’s arms—will fall out). “Beautiful wedding, Takeru,” he adds. “Hikari looked amazing.”

Takeru’s face brightens at the mention of his new wife. “She always does, but yes, today she looked spectacular.”

Yamato smiles and bumps his shoulder against Takeru’s. “Really proud of you, little brother.”

“Thanks, Yamato.”

They’re quiet for a bit. It’s almost peaceful, but something’s hanging in the air between them.

“Yamato?” Takeru asks, quietly. “Where’s Sora? We were surprised when you said she wouldn’t be coming.”

Yamato lets air whistle through his teeth. “Well,” he says, sighing and rubbing at his temple, “We’ve been having some… troubles. She left. Moved out.”

Takeru nods. “I’m sorry, Yamato.”

“It’s just temporary. We’re… working through things,” Yamato explains, quickly. Takeru frowns and Yamato recoils. (He hates pity, he’s always hated pity). “We are,” Yamato insists.

“Okay,” Takeru says, softly.

“She’s sorry she didn’t come. It’s complicated. We’ll repay you for the plate that went uneaten.”

Takeru waves a hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about that,” he replies. “It didn’t go to waste.”

Yamato makes a questioning noise and arches an eyebrow.

“Uh,” Takeru stumbles, “Well, Ren—Taichi’s boyfriend—took it. He wasn’t originally supposed to come, but when we had the extra plate, Hikari asked him and he moved some things around so he could attend…” Takeru trails off, looking regretfully at Yamato.

Yamato leans forward on the balcony, avoiding Takeru’s eyes. He tilts over to view the street below. Cars speed by in both directions. He forgot how busy Tokyo is. How bright it is: brake lights and streetlights; lights in windows and lights on buildings; lights on the ground and lights in the sky.

“Ren,” Yamato exhales, feeling out how the name rolls of his tongue. (He hates it, it feels awful).

A taxi pulls off in front of the hotel. Yamato should learn not to speak of the devil, as just as his mouth forms the shape of Ren’s name, Taichi and Ren step out of the hotel and walk towards the cab. When they approach, Taichi pulls Ren in by the neck, meeting in middle for a long, passionate kiss. Ren wraps his arms around Taichi’s neck, as Taichi’s hands slip down to Ren’s waist, pulling him in so their bodies are tight against each other. (He can’t tell for sure from here, but he’s certain Ren is invading Taichi’s mouth with his tongue. Yamato’s stomach clenches).

Takeru brings his fingers to his mouth and lets out a long whistle. At the sound, Taichi and Ren break apart and look up. When their eyes land on Takeru and Yamato, Ren instantly starts laughing and lifts a hand to wave. Yamato struggles not to jump back from the balcony edge. Taichi nods when he sees them both, but quickly looks away, turning to open the door of the taxi.

“Great wedding Takaishi!” Ren yells, before quickly kissing Taichi again and ducking into the back of the taxi. Taichi closes the door behind Ren and stands at the edge of the sidewalk as the taxi pulls away and disappears in the night.

“He’s leaving?” Yamato muses, as he watches Taichi walk back into the building. Yamato checks his watch, it’s only 9PM.

“Yeah,” Takeru answers, “He already delayed going into work for an evening, so he could be here. He probably needs to get there. He’s on some sort of special project, I think.”

“What does he do?” Yamato wonders, somewhat morbidly.

“He’s a detective. On a Special Investigation Team,” Takeru explains.

“Detective,” Yamato repeats, hollowly. (His heart picks up speed).

Takeru shifts so his back is towards the railing, looking at Yamato pensively. “Yamato,” Takeru says, softly, “You couldn’t have expected him to be alone forever.”

“I—”

“He was miserable for a long time,” Takeru interrupts. “Nobody saw him, except Koushiro, for almost a year. He threw himself into work. He still works stupid hours, mind you, and it’s still pretty rare that he sees any of us. We see him maybe once a month—some of the others see him even less. It took him a long time to pull himself out from under all the misery. It was bad, we were scared for him.”

“I—”

Takeru holds up a hand to stop him. Yamato shuts his mouth and bites his lip. (His mind is racing, there’s a million things on the tip of his tongue).

“Yamato,” Takeru says, gently. “He’s happy. Let him be happy.”

“Is he happy?” Yamato asks, in a whisper, staring at the cars whizzing by. (Everything inside of Yamato feels off-balance).

“Happier than he has been in four years.”

“I…” Yamato trails off.

“Yamato,” Takeru says, even gentler still. He places a hand on Yamato’s shoulder and squeezes. “You chose Sora. An easy, accepted life. A life with Sora, where a marriage and kids and a family were possible. That’s what you said you wanted.”

Yamato ducks his head into his hands, staying silent.

“You made that choice.”

* * *

**Part IV: An Encounter**

_Sometimes I think,_   
_I need a spare heart to feel_   
_all the things I feel._

  
_― Sanober Khan_

“Alright!” Daisuke says, slightly too loudly into the microphone. “Our gorgeous guest of honour and the muppet she decided to marry are about to head off, so this our last chance to celebrate with them today. And, it’s also our last chance to wish Hikari well tonight—we certainly hope it’s satisfactory!”

Ken brings his hand to his forehead, groaning audibly.

“Daisuke!” Miyako scolds loudly from Ken’s other side. Daisuke grins.

Takeru and Hikari make their way up to the microphone, Takeru shoving Daisuke gently before capturing him in a headlock. Daisuke yelps, batting his fists against Takeru’s side to get him to let go. When Takeru releases him, it’s only for a few seconds before the young men capture each other in a hug, both grinning. Daisuke whispers something to the newlyweds before making his way back to Ken, who is shaking his head fondly, only stopping when Daisuke ducks his head to peck him lightly on the lips. (As Yamato watches this something sharp and nagging digs into his side).

“Um,” Takeru fumbles, holding the microphone. He runs his hand through his tousled blond hair. The polished edge of his wedding look is gone, leaving him slightly flushed with the tinge alcohol tends to leave on Takaishi-Ishida men.

Hikari swoops in, composed, as always, and still looking as glamorous as she did at the beginning of the evening. “Takeru and I have had such a wonderful evening tonight,” she says, smiling at the dwindling crowd. “Thank you, everyone, for being here to celebrate with us. It’s been magical, truly a dream come true.” She looks up at Takeru, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks. “We love you all.”

(‘ _I fucking love you, you idiot’_ , Yamato hears repeating in his head).

“What she said,” Takeru adds. He takes the microphone from Hikari’s hand and gently places it back it’s cradle. “And on that note,” he says, grinning mischievously as he leans slightly into the microphone. “So long suckers!”

Laughing, he swoops Hikari up in his arms, and makes his way the few steps to elevator at the edge of the room. There, Iori is waiting, leg outstretched keeping the elevator doors open. Once Takeru steps inside, Hikari waves at the remaining guests before tilting her head upwards to kiss her now husband. The door slides shut. Iori laughs.

“Oh gods,” Taichi groans loudly from a few meters away, where he’s standing between Koushiro and Jou. “I did not need that image burned inside my skull.”

(Yamato’s mind supplies him with visions of other kisses: some soft and gentle, others bruising and unyielding).

Now that the bride and groom have departed, the room starts to hum with the sounds of staff cleaning around them. Yamato turns his attention back to his father, who he’s seated beside. Hiroaki brings a hand down on Yamato’s shoulder. “That was a beautiful day, son,” he muses, “I’m glad you made it back for this.”

“Me too,” Yamato replies.

“Must be great to see your friends again,” Hiroaki adds, nodding at the group congregating at the bar. Yamato nods. “Oh, Taichi!” Hiroaki calls out, already having moved on. He raises his hand in greeting.

Taichi’s head swivels as he tries to locate the voice, nodding when he finally pinpoints Hiroaki. His eyes flicker over to Yamato, briefly, and a smile that barely reaches his eyes slides onto his face. (Yamato thinks his heart stops.)

“Mr. Ishida,” Taichi says, as he approaches them.

Hiroaki reaches out to shake Taichi’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Taichi,” Hiroaki comments, “How have you been?”

“Good, sir,” Taichi replies, as Hiroaki releases his hand. “And you?

“Excellent.” Hiroaki smiles. “So,” Hiroaki says, lowering his voice. “Did I see you with a date tonight? Is that the young man who has captured the eldest Yagami’s heart?”

(Yamato freezes. His father says this with such casualness, such mirth, that it makes the hair on his arms stand on edge).

Taichi laughs. “A date, yes,” Taichi confirms, “Ren.”

“Lucky guy. Is he also a politician-to-be?”

Taichi shakes his head. “No, he works for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.”

Hiroaki lightly slaps Yamato on the back. “Policeman.” Hiroaki wiggles his eyebrows. “Does he know about all the trouble you and my son got into when you were teenagers?”

Taichi’s eyes shift to Yamato. Those brown eyes settle on him for a few seconds as Taichi pauses. “No,” Taichi says, offering a small stilted chuckle, “I’ve carefully audited that out.”

(Yamato’s insides twist. He says it casually, but it’s undercut with something else).

“Perhaps that’s for the best if you want to keep him around.” Hiroaki laughs and winks gratuitously at Taichi.

Taichi smiles and nods.

“Anyway,” Hiroaki says, squeezing Yamato’s shoulder. “You know, now that Yamato doesn’t live in town, I definitely do not see you enough, Taichi. It was always wonderful having you around. I’m glad my son—both my sons—have you in their life.” Hiroaki smiles and stand, clasps Taichi on the shoulder. “I should say goodbye to your parents. I’ll leave the two of you to get into trouble.”

Hiroaki laughs at his own joke and walks off, leaving Yamato and Taichi standing alone. (Yamato can feel his heart physically trying to escape its snug spot in his chest cavity).

“Hi,” Yamato says, finally, standing up to even out the playing field.

“Hey,” Taichi says back. He smiles, but its patently fake.

Yamato clears his throat. He doesn’t even try to smile. “How have you been?” he asks.

“Fine,” Taichi says, quickly. (Too quick? Yamato wonders). “I mean good,” Taichi corrects. “Great actually. Never better.”

“Great,” Yamato replies, intelligently.

“And you?”

“Uh,” Yamato mumbles, “Fine.”

Taichi stares at him, unblinking. “I see.”

Yamato rakes his hand through his hair. “Sora left me.” (He’s not sure why he said that, especially as Taichi’s eyes widen slightly and Yamato’s heart feels like it could rupture).

“I’m sorry,” Taichi offers, after a long minute of silence.

“Are you?”

Taichi frowns. “What do you want from me, Yamato?”

Yamato scowls back. “We’re friends, I thought it—”

“We’re friends?”

“I mean, maybe we’ve drifted—” (Yamato feels more anxious than he has in _years)._

“Drifted,” Taichi repeats. “Right. Well, you bear the crest, you’d know.”

“Taichi—”

Taichi closes his eyes and sighs, heavily. “I’m going to go. Koushiro’s giving me a lift home, better go now so I can make it to the brunch tomorrow.” He nods and turns to go.

“Taichi, I’ve missed you—”

“I—” Taichi cuts himself off, anger creeping into his voice, even though he’s fighting to keep it even. “You know what, Yama, say what you want about friendship, but you also know what crest I bear, so you better believe I know a coward when I see him.”

And with that, Taichi walks away, sidling up to Koushiro who is perched at the bar, obviously surveying the scene. Taichi loops an arm around Koushiro’s shoulder, who instantly puts his drink down, and the two of them make their way from the reception hall.

(Yamato’s whole body feels broken.

‘ _Yama_ ’, he hears echoing in his head).


	2. A Memorial in Three Movements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, yeah,” Daisuke waves a hand, as they walk back towards the moving truck. “Ren’s great, but it’s not the same. Goggle-heads are supposed to be with their Jogress partners. Sidekicks equal soulmates.”
> 
> “Sidekicks?” Ken repeats.
> 
> (Soulmates, Yamato thinks).

**Part I: A Realization**

_how is it that  
he's always  
in my thoughts.  
  
even when  
i am not  
thinking._

_― Sanober Khan_

* * *

_\-- Seven months post-Wedding of one Takeru and Hikari Takaishi --_

“So, it’s really over this time.”

Yamato nods, helping Takeru pick up a large and heavy box from the moving van.

“I mean,” Daisuke continues, grabbing a small box and tucking it under his arm, following Yamato and Takeru as they navigate the driveway with the large box. “Makes sense. I’ve heard rumours that women don’t really enjoy being in relationships with gay men.”

“Daisuke,” Ken warns, between giving maneuvering instructions to Yamato and Takeru.

“I’m sorry, but really, Yamato,” Daisuke says, bewildered, “Sora’s great—really great—beautiful, smart, decent football player—but, seriously, what were you thinking?”

(Yamato’s body feels strained and out of breath, and not just because the box of musical equipment is heavy).

“Daisuke!” Ken warns again, slapping his boyfriend on the back of his head, now that they’ve successfully brought the box into the room at the back of Takeru and Hikari’s newly bought home. They’ve sectioned off a portion at the back for Yamato to temporary stay in now that he and Sora have sold their old place, marking an end to that relationship.

“Sorry!” Daisuke mumbles. A thought must pop into his head, as he then instantly brightens. “This is good though. This means we just need to break-up Taichi and Ren, and everything can be right in the world again.”

(Yamato flinches at the name).

“Daisuke!” both Ken and Takeru chide him this time.

“You _like_ Ren,” Ken adds.

“They’re _happy,_ ” Takeru insists.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daisuke waves a hand, as they walk back towards the moving truck. “Ren’s great, but it’s not the same. Goggle-heads are supposed to be with their Jogress partners. Sidekicks equal soulmates.”

“Sidekicks?” Ken repeats.

( _Soulmates,_ Yamato thinks).

Daisuke’s eyes widen and he loops an arm around Ken’s shoulders, bringing him in close. “Not side-kick. Um…”

“Accomplice?” Takeru offers, with a grin.

“Better half.” Daisuke corrects, sheepishly, and Ken rewards him with a kiss. (That sharp thing is back, digging into Yamato’s side, as he watches).

“I’m not here to break them up,” Yamato says, trying to sound convincing.

“Taichi is happy,” Takeru says, warning.

“Taichi is happy,” Yamato repeats, unenthusiastically. “And I’m happy that he’s happy.” (Although his nagging heart is telling him otherwise).

“He just thinks he’s happy. I’ll break them up for you,” Daisuke offers, and Ken jabs him hard in the ribs. They both pick up another box.

“How’s it going out here?” a female voice asks, and the four men turn around to see Hikari standing behind them.

“Good,” Yamato and Takeru reply in unison and Ken nods.

“Horrible,” Daisuke grumbles, loudly.

“Horrible?” Hikari asks, arching an eyebrow. (The gesture makes Yamato’s heart swell, it’s so annoyingly familiar).

“Takeru and Ken are insisting that Taichi is happy.”

“Taichi is happy,” Hikari confirms.

“Yes, but not the _right_ type of happy,” Daisuke complains.

“Daisuke here thinks that goggle-heads are supposed to be with their Jogress partners. No exceptions,” Ken explains, on behalf of his boyfriend.

“That’s probably true too,” Hikari says.

Everyone’s heads swivel to face her. Takeru’s mouth drops open slightly.

Hikari looks directly at Yamato, eyes boring into him in that unique, annoyingly perceptive way of hers. “No one else is going to love him the way his soulmate can.” (Yamato’s heart skips a beat. And then starts pounding).

“Hikari,” Takeru sighs, “Taichi. Is. Happy.”

Hikari shrugs. “I know, but—”

“It’s not the same.” Hikari and Daisuke say in unison.

( _I want him back_ , Yamato thinks. And it echoes through his core).

* * *

**Part II: A Confession** ****

_the saddest thing is to be  
a minute to someone,  
when you've made them your eternity._

_  
―_ _Sanober Khan_

* * *

_\-- Two weeks following Yamato’s move into the Takaishi household --_

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here for dinner?”

“You live here,” Takeru retorts, as he sets the table.

“I can leave for the evening,” Yamato argues.

“Of course, it’s fine,” Hikari calls from the kitchen.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Yamato.” Hikari’s sigh is audible, even from the other room. “If it makes you feel better, I asked him.”

“Won’t it be awkward?”

“It’s definitely going to be awkward,” Takeru mutters, as he places wine glasses on the table. “Definitely going to need these.”

“Takeru,” Hikari warns, joining them in the dining area. “It won’t be awkward unless we all make it awkward. Now, let’s just enjoy ourselves.” She looks at Yamato. “We’re no longer pre-adolescents with unruly emotions and who use our fists to solve disagreements, are we? So, it’ll be fine.”

(Yamato’s cheeks heat up, as do other things as thoughts creep in concerning the _truly_ heated arguments).

Yamato opens his mouth to reply, but the doorbell rings, and Hikari is off to answer. It’s not long before he can hear Taichi’s voice in the entrance way, loud and cheerful and unguarded. “So glad you both could come,” Hikari greets. “This way.”

‘Be nice’, Takeru mouths at Yamato, a stern look furrowing his brow.

“I will,” Yamato hisses, returning the pointed look.

Takeru rolls his eyes. Then, sighing, he pours himself a glassful of wine and takes a large sip.

Seconds later Hikari appears back in the dining area, followed closely by Taichi and Ren. Taichi has a hand on Ren’s back, guiding him into the room. (It may be wishful thinking on Yamato’s behalf, but his gut tells him Taichi drops that hand quickly upon seeing him).

“Ren,” Hikari says, “This is Yamato, Takeru’s brother. I’m not sure if you two met at the wedding.”

“I don’t think so,” Ren concedes, holding out his hand. “But nice to meet you. I’ve heard lots about all you Chosen Children, so it’s nice to put a face to the stories.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yamato says, as it’s the polite thing to do. He tries to smile and shakes Ren’s hand. (Yamato loathes himself for posturing, but he knows his handshake is firmer than usual. He tries to resist the urge to squeeze too hard). “You know about the Digital World.” Yamato says, incredulously, as they release. Yamato spares a glance at Taichi, who seems to be trying hard not to glare at him over Ren’s shoulder.

“Yep,” Ren laughs, turning slightly and bumping Taichi’s shoulder with his. “I mean, it’s such a big part of ‘Chi’s life. There’s nothing I don’t want to share with this one.”

( _‘Chi._ Yamato feels nauseous).

“Plus, I witnessed the fight online with Diaboromon,” Ren adds, “And this hair is would be a travesty on anyone else.” Ren runs his fingers through Taichi’s still out-of-control mop of hair.

(Yamato bites back a growl, watching Ren freely touch Taichi).

“The hair is pretty unmistakable,” Hikari agrees, eyes crinkling in a smile. She gestures for everyone to sit down.

“Heey…” Taichi says, in mock offense.

“I guess that was you on the other shoulder during that fight, Yamato?” Ren says, as they all sit down. “You both seemed so brave. It was wild to watch.”

Yamato nods and follows Takeru’s lead by sipping his wine. (Yamato’s heart squeezes, remembering the feeling of being pulled through the screen. One minute so far from Taichi, the next, closer than they’d ever been).

“Plus, Taichi’s told me all about the frustration of this internet-less-land of Shimane,” Ren teases.

“Oh god,” Takeru laughs, taking another drink of his wine. “That poor old couple when you disappeared through the computer, Yamato. I’m surprised they didn’t have a heart attack.”

“Yeah,” Yamato manages, with a forced chuckle.

“I blame you two for the fact he won’t entertain moving outside of Tokyo’s centre,” Ren adds. 

“You’re moving?” Hikari asks, hand pausing awkwardly in the air as she raises her wine glass to her lips.

“Just talking about it,” Taichi says, quickly, “Nothing concrete. But Ren moved in when his lease ended, and my place is kinda small…”

Hikari smiles. “Stealing my brother, are we Ren?”

“You know it,” Ren leans over and kisses Taichi’s cheek.

(Yamato feels like the floor has dropped out from beneath him. _Moved in, Stealing_ , he hears on repeat).

The rest of dinner is a blur. There’s conversation, but Yamato barely participates. He picks at his food, stirring it around on his plate, and tries not to stare too much at Taichi seated opposite him, next to Ren. (Every once in a while, Taichi and Ren’s hands brush or Ren leans into him and laughs, and Yamato’s entire body seizes up. It feels like dying).

"Wow,” Ren says, smile bright, after Takeru finishes telling a story about their school days. “It must have been fun, pairs of siblings growing up together.” He reaches over and smooths out the side of Taichi’s hair. “I’ve always wondered what Taichi was like as a kid,” he adds.

Taichi smiles. “No need to go into—"

“Energetic,” Takeru supplies, sipping his wine.

“Impulsive.” Hikari laughs.

“Intoxicating.”

(The word is out of Yamato’s mouth before he can stop it. And in that moment, Yamato’s whole world seems to go into slow motion).

The smile on Taichi’s face freezes. Takeru’s jaw falls open. Hikari raises her napkin to her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Ren says, swallowing. “What?”

“I mean,” Yamato says. (Yamato’s impulse control seems to disconnect). “Your soulmate usually is, intoxicating, to you.” He shifts his gaze to look at Taichi.

Taichi opens his mouth, but Ren speaks again first: “Do you mean—I’m sorry—that you two, used to be…” He trails off, looking expectantly at Taichi. “When? How long?

“I can explain—” Taichi says, at the same time Yamato says: “Four years.”

“And you were going to mention this when?” Ren shakes his head. He pushes back his chair, standing up quickly, then briskly: “I got to go.”

“Ren—”

“I got to go,” Ren repeats. “Hikari, Takeru—sorry.”

Takeru opens his mouth to reply, but Ren is already halfway out of the room. Taichi scampers up after him. 

“Fuck you,” Taichi says, glaring at Yamato as he makes his way out of the room. “Ren, wait.”

Takeru sighs. “Yamato…”

“I know, I know. Taichi is happy.” (Yamato feels lightheaded, the last few minutes feel like an out-of-body experience).

“Not at this exact moment, he’s not,” Hikari says, softly.

Takeru frowns and refills his wine glass. Then, the three of them sit silently at the table, catching bits and pieces of argument happening in the entrance way.

“Ren, I can explain—”

“Explain what? That your oldest friend—a person you’ve happened to save the world alongside—also happens to be your ex? Your _soulmate._ ”

“No! That’s not—"

“That’s what he said.”

“Fuck, Ren. It’s complicated.”

“You never mentioned that. Not once.”

“It’s complicated! Ren, let’s just go home. We’ll talk.”

“No, Taichi. Not now. I need some space. I should go to work, anyway.” A door slams.

(Despite the situation, a tiny bit of hope creeps through Yamato).

Taichi slowly steps back into the room. In unison, Takeru and Hikari take giant sips of their wine.

“What the actual fuck.” Taichi hisses, glaring at Yamato, more vitriol in his face than Yamato has seen in years.

“Taichi, I—” Yamato gets up from his chair, holding out his hands placatingly.

Taichi growls. In two strides, Taichi’s next to Yamato, fist bunching Yamato’s shirt collar and slamming him hard against the wall. “What the fuck was that? _Why_ would you do that?” The volume of Taichi’s voice rises with every question. “Do you get off on me being miserable or something?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it that way…”

“Say what? What could you possibly have left to say?” Taichi shouts.

Yamato swallows. (Yamato’s heart is racing. _It’s now or never,_ something inside him tells him). “I made a mistake. I should never have ended things. I love you. You and I… we belong together. Always have. Always will.”

“Damn it, Yamato,” Taichi says, he bangs his fist on the wall next to Yamato’s head, “No! You—fuck—you are the most selfish, egotistical person I’ve ever met. You don’t get to do this.”

Taichi lets go of Yamato’s shirt collar and spins on his heel and walks towards the door; seconds later they hear the door slam again.

Yamato falls back on the wall and slides his gaze towards Takeru and Hikari. (Yamato’s physical body feels surprised by the lack of pain, astonished that Taichi didn’t hit him).

Takeru shrugs and chugs his wine.

“What are you waiting for? Go!” Hikari urges.

Yamato’s eyes widen at the order, but he obeys, quickly following Taichi out the door.

(Adrenaline is coursing through his body. This is either the best or worst decision of his life).

“Taichi wait!” Yamato yells, skidding to a stop behind him, as Taichi stalks away. “Taichi,” Yamato says again. He grabs Taichi’s arm and yanks Taichi to face him. Taichi’s eyes are undeniably filled with anger. “Taichi, I— I—”

There are no words, so Yamato does the next best thing, he brings his other hand up to cradle Taichi’s face and tilts his head to bring his lips down to Taichi’s. (It’s good, it’s great. It’s _perfect._ It’s everything that’s been missing—but it won’t last).

“Fuck, Yamato, no,” Taichi yells, pushing Yamato away from him. “You. Left. Me. Remember? So, you don’t just get to waltz back in here and decide you want to rewind everything!”

(Yamato remembers, so very clearly:

_It’s a Saturday, it’s dreary outside, a cold wet rain. Yamato and Taichi are curled up under blanket fort in Taichi’s university apartment, hiding from the world, even though they’re twenty-two—adults—and definitely have things they should be doing. Yamato’s head is resting on Taichi’s chest, Taichi’s arms wrapped around him. It’s peaceful, quiet; here in their blanket fort, away from prying eyes. Away from outsiders. Safe._

_And yet something terrible is clawing at Yamato’s heart, cracking his resolve._

_"_ _"Chi?” he whispers._

_Taichi leans down and kisses the top of Yamato’s head. “Yeah?”_

_"I can’t do this anymore…” Yamato says, softly, barely above a whisper._

_“Do what?” Taichi asks, “I guess, yeah, we could get up… be productive members of society.”_

_“No, I mean…” Yamato trails off, then gathers himself and tries again. He sits up, pulling his knees into him. “I mean this. Us. I can’t. My dad—people—they’re never going to accept this. Us.” Taichi sits up on his elbows, staring, bewildered at Yamato. “My cousin’s getting married. My dad’s excited about it, and as it gets closer, he keeps talking about how great it’ll be when I settle down. Get married. Have kids. He wouldn’t like it…” Yamato trails off again. “And I want those things. Marriage. Kids. A family.”_

_“None of that shit matters, as long as we have each other…”_

_“It matters to me.” Yamato says, pressing his palms into his eyelids to help hold back tears._

_“I fucking love you, you idiot,” Taichi says, reaching for him. “Who cares what other people think? I know that this—us—is right.”_

_“I—I,” Yamato stammers, “I… I love you too. I just, I can’t. It’s too hard, too complicated. I want something…”_

_“Easy?” Taichi offers, angrily. “Acceptable? Straight?” He spits the last word._

_“Taichi…”_

_“I fucking love you!” Taichi insists again, “You. You and me. There’s no one else for me Yamato, no one. Nobody can ever compare to this. You’re it. You’re who I want. From now until eternity. I thought you wanted the same… You do want that, I know you do.”_

_“I can’t… I’m sorry…”_

Yeah, Yamato remembers).

"He doesn’t—he can’t—love you the way I do,” Yamato insists, instead of addressing the question.

“Of course, he can’t!” Taichi shouts, with such force Yamato actually takes a step back. “How could he, Yamato?”

He pauses, and Yamato can see that behind the anger Taichi is on the verge of tears. “He hasn’t been through what we have or seen the things I’ve done,” Taichi continues, a modicum quieter. “He can’t understand what it’s like to be forced to save the world three times over before you can legally drink. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in charge of a small army before you hit puberty. He could never fully empathize with being stuck in a kill-or-be-killed situation when you’re eleven! Or know how it feels to watch your teacher die in front of you. Or what it’s like to almost die, trapped in another world, away from everyone you love. Fuck, his childhood was completely _normal_. Boring. Almost painfully dull. He can never really understand why I wake up at night in a cold sweat, unable to go back to sleep.

“He’s also never _seen_ me the way you have. He’s never held my hand while we get shot with arrows from angels. He’s never cradled me while I’m an inch from dying. Or felt me ostensibly die _for_ him. He’s never fused with me so our heartbeats, and thoughts, and essence overlap.”

“Taichi—” (Yamato feels raw, his voice caught between yelling and breaking).

“Shut up, I’m not finished,” Taichi snaps, fists clenched. “He’s also never left me. He’s never abandoned me because it’s too hard to be with me. He’s never been ashamed of me, or of us, or what people think of us. He’s not a coward. He’s never wrenched out my heart and stomped on it. Or shacked up with our mutual friend and kicked me out of their lives. He doesn’t just want me because he’s _afraid_ of being _alone._ ”

(Yamato’s frozen. His heart is pounding, but yet he can’t say, or do, anything).

“So no,” Taichi continues, “He doesn’t love me in the way you say you do. He can’t. It would be unfair of me to expect him to. But he does love me. And he chooses me. Every day. He’s not scared of what people think of us. He’s not scared to tell people that he loves me, another _man_. He wants a future with me. He’s not so scared of himself that he runs away from _who he is._ ”

“Taichi, I made a mistake…”

Taichi nods. “Yes, you did,” he says, voice trembling.

“Taichi,” Yamato says, closing the distance between them and sliding his hand up to cradle the side of Taichi’s face again. Taichi instantly stiffens. “I love you.”

Taichi shakes his head, pulling away from Yamato’s touch.

(Yamato’s insides crumble. He feels like he’s tumbling, heading over a cliff. And this time Taichi isn’t going to catch him).

“Maybe,” Taichi says, a tear slipping down his face. “But not in the right way.”

* * *

**Part III: A Confrontation**

_a flower knows, when its butterfly will return,  
and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;  
but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,  
when I don't know, if you will ever come back._

_  
__― Sanober Khan_

* * *

_\-- Two days in the future of this apocalyptic confession land --_

“You did _what_?”

Yamato stares into the drink in front of him and sighs at Jou’s question. “I told him that we belong together and basically implied that he’ll never be truly happy with anyone else.”

“Oh no, Yamato,” Jou groans, at the same time Daisuke whoops, “Nice work, Yamato!” Ken jabs Daisuke in the ribs.

This unorthodox group of drinking partners have been convened to commiserate with Yamato over the latest development in his attempt to win Taichi back—what Daisuke has dubbed _Operation Omegamon_. (Although they’re doing a poor job, in Yamato’s opinion).

“Did you mean it?” Ken asks, softly.

Yamato throws back the rest of his drink and motions for the bartender to bring him another. “Of course, I mean it.”

“You better,” Jou says, jaw set in a tense line. “You _broke_ him last time, Yamato.”

“I know.”

“Do you? You didn’t see it. I’ve never seen him broken before, Yamato,” Jou explains, “There’s a reason Koushiro—and by association, Mimi—aren’t here. Koushiro spent _months_ watching Taichi drink himself into oblivion. Over a year trying to put him back together. It took Mimi _three years_ to get him to entertain the concept of dating. _You_ did that.”

“I know.” (Yamato’s stomach lurches as he downs another drink).

“And it only got worse when you and Sora got back together,” Ken adds, frowning.

Daisuke slams his beer down on the table. “That’s in the past, if Yamato’s really committed this time—”

“Are you committed this time?” Ken interrupts, asking Yamato, pointedly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yamato replies, emphatically.

“See? He is,” Daisuke chimes in, ever-supportive of this reunion. (Yamato feels a surge of gratitude towards Daisuke).

“You’re not going to freak out again? Decide you want something simple, uncomplicated?” Ken asks, uncharacteristically brave in this line of questioning. “Japan’s made progress, but it’s still not _easy_. It may never be _easy._ ”

“Taichi is happy, Yamato. Ren makes him happy,” Jou muses, “Maybe you love him, but maybe this is… fairer. You can’t put him through that again. Maybe you should just let it be.”

“I _can’t,_ ” Yamato says, exasperated. He brings his hands to the side of his head, raking both of his hands through his hair. “You don’t understand. He’s _mine_. I’m _his_. He’s _always_ felt like mine. I should have been braver, I know. Even when I left, I still loved him. It’s felt like…” he trails off.

“A part of you is missing,” Daisuke fills in the blanks, softly. He shares a look with Ken, who purses his lips. (Yamato looks up at both of them, who are staring at each other. They understand, his gut tells him).

Regardless, Ken insists: “You have to be sure. You can’t even be a little uncertain.”

“Babe.” Daisuke wraps an arm around Ken. “He knows.” Ken doesn’t look placated.

“I have to leave. Work in early in the morning,” Jou announces, as he finishes his drink. “Yamato, please don’t hurt him again,” he pleads, standing up. “Ken, do you two still want a lift?”

“I’ll be home later,” Daisuke tells him, and Ken sighs, bending to kiss Daisuke, before following Jou out of the bar. (This time, Yamato recognizes the sharp thing digging into his side as jealousy. Every inch of him wants his version of that back).

“You don’t need to stay,” Yamato says, downing what is probably his fourth or fifth drink.

“You need a friend,” Daisuke replies, “Friends don’t let friends drink alone. I learned that from the best.” He grins and finishes his beer, signalling the waitress.

Yamato chuckles, unenthusiastically.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Yamato looks up, but Daisuke continues without waiting for an answer: “How could you just… end things? You’ve felt him here”—he points to his heart—“and”—he points to his head—"here. He’s been _inside_ you. Your souls are linked. How do you just… walk away from that?”

The waitress places drinks in front of them and both of them nod their thanks.

“I’m not brave like you and Taichi,” Yamato says, lamely.

“That’s a shit excuse, man,” Daisuke scoffs. He leans back in the booth, looking at the ceiling. “But you love him. I know you do. I dunno how you couldn’t, if your connection is anything like Ken and mine. And he loves you. He just needs to be reminded. And assured you’re not going anywhere this time.” Daisuke grins mischievously.

(Yamato arches an eyebrow, body filling with trepidation).

***

Five drinks later, Daisuke and Yamato basically fall out of a taxi.

“Alright,” Daisuke says, clapping his hands together as they stand in front of an apartment building. “He’s number 603. Ren _should_ be at work.” He pauses, bites his lip. “Well, I hope he’s at work. He was on night shifts. Maybe I should come as backup? Damn, Ken would kill me if he knew we were doing this.”

“All of them would,” Yamato mutters.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?” Daisuke chuckles, nervously. “So, backup?”

“Do I need back-up?” Yamato asks, staring up at the building. (He simultaneously feels excited and scared shitless. Correction on two nights ago, _this_ might be the best or worst decision of his life).

“I dunno, man,” Daisuke hums, mulling it over. “Taichi’s in _amazing_ shape”—Yamato throws him a completely unnecessary ‘hands-off’ glare—“and Ren is…” He trails off and mouths a ‘wow’ at Yamato.

“Right, so backup.”

“Too bad we couldn’t have brought V-mon and Gabumon,” Daisuke drunkenly muses.

“So, we could what—blast Ren into oblivion?” Yamato laughs, despite himself. “Metal Wolf Claw!” He makes a drunken gesture imitating MetalGarurumon’s attack.

“You’d go straight to mega for this?” Daisuke laughs.

“As far as I’m concerned, this is a mega-problem,” Yamato’s drunk mind reasons. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing, then,” Daisuke says, pushing the door open and stumbling slightly. “Don’t think we need a MetalGarurumon versus WarGreymon rematch in the middle of Tokyo.”

Yamato shrugs one shoulder with drunken apathy. “Probably not.”

“Alright,” Daisuke says, swaying as he presses the elevator button. “Let’s go get your guy.” ( _Mine,_ Yamato feels that to his core).

They step into the elevator, both leaning against opposite sides of the elevator. “Daisuke,” Yamato says, suddenly. “Do we have a plan?”

Daisuke stares at him, wide-eyed. “A plan? No, dude, the _plan_ is your problem. I’m just back-up.”

“Right,” Yamato agrees. “Well, I am trying to win Taichi back, so… I guess true to our style, I’ll wing it?” (Despite everything, Yamato feels shockingly optimistic).

“What could go wrong?”

***

A few minutes later, they’re standing in front of Taichi’s apartment door. Yamato stands slightly behind Daisuke, as the latter raises his fist to the door, knocking a few times, loudly.

“Here goes nothing…” Yamato mutters. (His stomach turns over, nerves kicking in).

It takes a bit, but finally the door slowly opens. Behind it, a half-awake Taichi stands, pressing his forehead against the doorframe. “Daisuke? Do you know what time it is…” Taichi mutters, before blinking a few times, eyes focusing on Daisuke and then registering the person beside him. “Yamato…” Taichi says, immediately more awake.

“Taichi. Hi. I need to—” Yamato starts, but a voice from inside the apartment interrupts, calling: “Taichi, babe, who the hell is at the door?”

“Um,” Taichi stutters, as Daisuke says: “Oh shit. Start talking.” (Yamato instantly bristles).

“Okay, ‘Chi, listen. Please. I love you. I meant it when I said you and I belong together,” Yamato says, talking fast to Taichi’s bewildered face, taking a step into the apartment. “Always have. Always will. I need you—you’re everything to me. You and me. I want you, from now to eternity. I may have forgotten that, temporarily, and I’m sorry, I wish I could fix it or take it back—I’m an _idiot_ —but—”

Ren appears in the entrance way, making his way towards them. “What the hell…” he growls.

“Taichi, please. You know you belong with me. I’m not going anywhere, not this time.”

“Yamato—"

“Get out,” Ren says, sternly, interrupting Taichi. He holds the door open and gestures for Yamato to leave.

“I’m not talking to you,” Yamato says, barely sparing Ren a glance. “Taichi, I’m not giving up this time.”

“Get out,” Ren repeats, “Or I will make you get out.”

“You’ll have to, as I’m seriously not leaving,” Yamato spits, full of drunken bravado. “Taichi, I love you… We’re partners, in every sense of the term. I know you love me too…” He takes another step towards Taichi, who takes half a step backwards. (Yamato’s impulse control is seriously faulty lately, as it breaks again).

Grabbing Taichi’s hand, Yamato pulls him towards him, crashing his lips against Taichi’s. (Again: it’s good, it’s great. It’s _perfect._ It’s everything that’s been missing—but, again, it won’t last…).

And it doesn’t: a hand grabs his shoulder, wrenching him backwards and something crashes against his jaw. One second, Yamato’s body is pressed up against the love-of-his-life’s, the next it’s tumbling to the ground. Another fist slams against his shoulder and Yamato swings back, connecting with something hard. (His brain barely processes anything post-Taichi’s lips).

“Ren. Ren! Stop it.” Taichi yells, pulling Ren off of Yamato, “Ren! Yamato!” 

“Yamato!” Daisuke yelps, grabbing at Yamato, “Plan’s kind of going to shit here…” Daisuke pulls him back, staggering as he does.

They all manage to stand: Taichi holding Ren around the waist, who is glaring daggers at Yamato, and Daisuke holding Yamato back by the arms, who is returning those daggers. All are breathing heavily.

“Get. Out.” Ren spits, swiping his hand across his mouth. (Something morbid in the back of Yamato’s mind leaps excitedly, as he processes that Ren’s lip is bleeding).

“Yamato, let’s leave,” Daisuke murmurs, quietly.

Yamato looks at Taichi, their eyes meeting head on. There’s still anger there, but they seem slightly softer. Yamato’s not even sure he needs words—they’ve always been so good at communicating without them—but regardless, he adds, aloud: “I’m not going anywhere this time, ‘Chi, I swear. I love you.”

(He says _everything_ he can with his eyes— _I love you. I need you. Please love me, please need me. Please take me back._

 _I can’t live without you_ ).

And then he lets Daisuke drag him out of the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this 2/3 of the way written from the COVID-test line, so while stuck on a part of my other fic, I polished this up as a way for my muse to kickstart itself on the other one. All of you will need to wait for a bit for the conclusion of this while I finish the chapter for the other one.


	3. A Revolution in Two Stages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a banging at his door.
> 
> Loud. With zero consistency to the rhythm of the knocking. 
> 
> With ‘shit neighbours!’ being his primary thought, Yamato lunges for the door, throwing it open and there stands…
> 
> Taichi. (Taichi?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: A small reference to a spoiler for Kizuna. There was also sort of one in the last chapter I guess.

**Part I: A Cease-Fire**

_the one  
who will jolt awake  
all the unwritten  
the unsung  
and the unlived  
in me.  
  
i am waiting  
for him._

_  
― Sanober Khan_

* * *

_\-- One-month post-confrontation, the train wreck that was Operation Omegamon, and also the eve of Taichi’s 27 th birthday _ _\--_

The bruise on Yamato’s jaw has finally healed. It took a while, the lovely shade of deep purple sticking around for weeks to remind him: Taichi is _happy._

The bruise on his ego has yet to heal. And while he hasn’t done anything so gloriously stupid lately, he has succumbed to sending a few texts here and there. (All which say _I love you._ Or _I miss you._ And all of which have been left unread). As penance, the sound of Ken exclaiming _“you idiots”_ still echoes in his head once in a while, or every time he thinks about that night. (Which, Yamato admits, is a lot). The confession, the confrontation; Taichi’s lips on his, and Ren’s fist to his jaw.

So, he fights to remind himself: Taichi is _happy._

(Yamato’s head says: hurtpainfuckagonydamnitmiseryheartache, _not-the-right-kind-of-happy_ ).

It may be midnight, but he can’t sleep, so he’s sitting on the floor of his newly rented apartment, absentmindedly unpacking records. (Trying not to think about how every other Chosen—and probably Ren, ugh—is out celebrating Taichi’s birthday. And he’s here. Alone). The record he holds in his hand at the moment is the second _Knife of Day_ album. It’s the one they pretentiously released on vinyl pretty much entirely because Yamato felt it was cool and sophisticated and, well, sexy. (Honestly, he still feels this way).

Adding to the pretentiousness, they’d signed all the records before selling them. But Yamato kept this last one. (He’s always been more sentimental than he’s ever cared to let on). It’s special, partly as there are five signatures on the back of this record, despite them having been foursome—Taichi had stolen it one day, scrawled his own signature on the back and shoved it back on Yamato’s shelf. Yamato found it a few months later and had been furious.

(Now, tracing the fifth signature with his finger, he just feels remorse. They’re so far from that day).

“He’s happy,” Yamato repeats aloud, as he puts the record on the shelf. (The theory being that if he says it out loud, he’ll internalize it. Or something like that).

He unpacks a few more albums. One hand sorting through records; the other clasped gently around a glass of gin. He’s holding _Disintegration_ by the Cure _—_ (an album he once described as challenging, claustrophobic, and poignant, and Taichi described as depressive and whiney, causing a three-day-long fight about respecting art, before Taichi had admitted the band’s hit single _Lovesong_ was acceptable and Yamato had acquiesced because when has he not given in to Taichi)—when there’s a banging at his door.

Loud. With zero consistency to the rhythm of the knocking.

With ‘shit neighbours!’ being his primary thought, Yamato lunges for the door, throwing it open and there stands…

Taichi. ( _Taichi?_ )

Yamato blinks a few times, trying to make sure he’s not hallucinating. “Taichi. Hi…”

Taichi scuffs the toe of his shoe against the doorframe as he rakes his hand through his hair. He looks somewhat drunk, eyes slightly unfocused and glossy, and he smells it too, the scent of sake lingering.

He doesn’t say anything, so Yamato continues, “Um, do you want to come in?” He moves himself out of the doorway, so Taichi has a clear path.

Taichi looks hesitant. He bites down awkwardly on his bottom lip, but then nods. Without saying a word, he takes two small, hesitant steps into the apartment, before pausing to lean against the wall. Yamato steps past him, moving to hover near the couch, on the other side of the small living area.

There’s a long pause. Taichi’s eyes skim the apartment, looking everywhere but Yamato.

Finally, Yamato asks, “Do you want something to drink?” He gestures at the mostly empty glass of gin he still holds in his hand. He doesn’t wait for an answer, using Taichi’s lack of drink as an excuse to move to the kitchen to refill his own glass, needing some liquid courage. (As he doesn’t come with his built in).

After taking a large gulp to steel him, he walks back around the corner into the living area. There, he finds Taichi holding the Knife of Day album in his hand, staring at the back cover. At the signatures. Wordlessly, Yamato holds out the alcohol to him.

Taichi takes it without really looking at Yamato. Then, hesitatingly, he murmurs, “You still have this.”

“Of course,” Yamato says, quickly. (His throat starts to hurt from the alcohol, as if sympathizing with his heart).

Taichi puts it back on the shelf. “I thought you would have thrown out everything that reminded you of me.”

Yamato frowns. “Taichi—”

“Koushiro said it was a stupid idea to come here,” Taichi interrupts, moving the glass from side to side so the alcohol sways, before taking a sip.

(Yamato clenches his glass a bit tighter). “Why are you here then?”

“I—” Taichi starts. “I don’t know,” he says, ever honest.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Yamato adds, tentatively.

Taichi looks over at Yamato for the first time since he stepped through the door. “I…” Taichi pauses whatever thought he’s starting to say, eyes darting away again. “I’m twenty-seven today,” he tells Yamato, instead. Smiles faintly, as if he knows it’s a lame segue.

“I know that,” Yamato replies, emphatically. Almost rolls his eyes. (Of _course,_ he knows that). “Happy birthday…” he adds, softly.

Taichi shrugs the comment off. “Didn’t do much, this year. Koushiro got his hands on these new virtual-reality headsets through some tech-friends of his. Allows you to fully immerse yourself in the game. It’s pretty cool. Dai and I were into it. Ken not so much. Made Jou sick.” Taichi takes another sip of his drink, stopping his rambling momentarily.

Yamato just stares at him, unsure where this is going.

“Last year we did something ridiculous. Bunch of us—even Mimi— played laser tag as this sports facility just outside of Tokyo. It was great fun. Running around. Shooting people with laser guns. Takeru surprised us all with how good he was—top scores throughout the night. And Mimi beat Koushiro in several games, much to the nerd’s dismay.” Taichi smiles softly for a brief second, before the smile morphs into a frown and he looks conflicted. “You would have hated it. Totally not your idea of fun.”

(It isn’t, yet Yamato finds himself longing to have been there).

“I kept thinking that throughout the first few games. ‘Yamato would hate this. Even if he was good at it, which he probably would have been. He’d hate this.’ I felt guilty for thinking it too, as it was fun. And everyone was enjoying themselves.” He pauses, raises his eyes to meet Yamato’s. “And Ren had gotten us in there for free, by ourselves, unlimited gameplay. Used a work connection. We hadn’t even been seeing each other that long. A few months.”

(Yamato tries hard not to visibly flinch at the name, as his insides balk).

“I just remember thinking, Taichi, stop it. You have to stop thinking about him. He’s gone. He’s been gone for three, almost four, years. He’s not coming back and thinking about him is unfair to you. It’s unfair to Ren. You have this guy, right here, who is smart, and fun, and amazing. Move on.”

(Don’t move on, Yamato finds himself wishing—pleading—even though he knows what Taichi will say next).

“And I did. And I was doing good, Yamato. Even after seeing you at the wedding, I was good. I was happy. Truly. And then you came back here,” he hisses. “You came back here and you…” He waves his hand aimlessly through the air, before dropping it with a thud against his thigh. “I had a guy who wanted me. Who was good for me. Who _loved_ me.”

“Had?” Yamato finds himself repeating, hoarsely. (The rest are painful agonizing words, but he latches onto the _had_ ).

Taichi glares. “Yes, _had_ ,” he spits. “You think after that whole performance you put on, that he was going stick around? He broke up with me two weeks ago. That’s got to make you happy, ne Yamato?” 

Yamato scowls. “I’m never happy that you’re hurting, ‘Chi. I’m—” ( _Sorry,_ he starts to say, and yet, he’s not).

“Don’t,” Taichi cuts him off.

“I meant what I said though.” Yamato pivots, willing Taichi to believe him.

Frowning, Taichi takes another sip of his drink before slamming it down on the shelf. “Yeah, Ren thought that too. ‘He sounded sincere, if a bit psycho.’ That’s what he said as he was packing.” Taichi lets out a bitter laugh. “After I explained everything—because I’m a world-class _idiot._ I figured maybe if he just knew what was between us as kids, he could handle things. I told him that you and I are over and done. That despite our past, it’s exactly that: the past.”

(Yamato’s inside crumble at the word _past_ , and he’s barreling towards that cliff again).

“He told me I was lying to myself. That if what I said was true, that I’ve felt you inside my heart and my head, that I couldn’t just walk away,” Taichi says, tone sharp and sour. “He said that a bond like that didn’t seem like something someone could just leave in the past. And that he couldn’t compete with all of that and wasn’t going to wait around for me to figure out that there was still something still there.”

Yamato clears his throat. (It feels like their whole lives are stuck in his esophagus). “Is there still something there?”

“No,” Taichi snaps, forcefully, “You ruined that."

“I can still feel it. Our bond,” Yamato snaps back, unable to keep his tone even. “He’s right, you can’t just walk away from it.” (He says it before he realizes how it sounds).

Taichi stares at him, incredulous. “ _I_ can’t? I don’t know about that. It seemed pretty easy when _you_ did it, Yamato.”

Bravely, Yamato takes a step towards Taichi, fingers clenched into fists at his side. “It wasn’t easy Taichi,” he argues, “Nothing about leaving you was easy.”

Taichi’s jaw clenches. “You still left.”

“I was scared!” Yamato shouts, he takes another step towards Taichi, just out of arms reach. He continues, not quite shouting, but still forcefully, “It was all too much. We were twenty-two and everything felt so loud and fierce and full of messy layers. I didn’t know how to be enough for you.”

“Right,” Taichi says, sarcastically, “Sure. I loved you _too_ much.” His fingers flex near his side, mouth drawn in a tight line.

Yamato scowls. “I was barely coping as is—and it—us—was so complicated. I didn’t know how people would react. How to tell people. I didn’t know how to be strong enough.”

(His heart is racing trying to get all the words out).

“Everything had just fallen apart. I was lost. I’d just lost—” Yamato breaks off.

(His stomach clenches. Five years later, and it still hurts).

“You didn’t go through that alone, Yamato,” Taichi hisses. “I went through it too. And then a handful of months later I lost you. I lost _everything_ that ever meant anything to me. Ever think about that?”

“Yes!” Yamato insists, “I know. I just— fuck, Taichi, it hurt. And everything between us was just a reminder. I wanted something simple. A way to exist in _this_ world without ruffling anything or anyone. Fill my life with stuff that was _normal._ I wanted to be normal. Not Chosen. Not gay. Not in this relationship that was so fucking potent, and epic, and barrelling with such intensity towards eternity that it made it hard to breathe.”

“A lot of fucking excuses, Yamato,” Taichi snaps.

“I know!” Yamato shouts. “I just… I needed to breathe. I couldn’t be enough for you. Not then.” He takes a deep breath, then slightly more even toned, “But now—I was wrong. You’re supposed to be with me."

Taichi opens his mouth, then closes it again. He looks angry as he lets out, through gritted teeth, an exasperated, “Fuck you, Yamato. Did an alarm go off in your fucking head that said I was happy? ‘Shit, Taichi’s happy, better go ruin that.’ You left—why can’t you stay that way? Just leave me alone. I had moved on and forgotten about you.”

(It feels like a sucker punch, but Yamato gathers himself).

“You can’t,” he says, his voice raw and near breaking. “You can’t forget about me. There’s no one else for you, Taichi, no one. Nobody can ever compare to this,” Yamato adds, repeating Taichi’s plea from the last day they were truly _partners._

Taichi snarls at the comment, on edge immediately. His hand reaches for Yamato, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and knocking him off balance. Yamato can hear the tear of the fabric, as he gets yanked a good foot, and thrown back against the wall.

“I want to hate you so much,” Taichi says, with an expression on his face that says it’s far too late to fix any of this.

“I know,” Yamato admits, resigned. “You probably should.”

“Did you ever love me?” Taichi whispers, broken.

“I still love you,” Yamato promises, meeting Taichi’s gaze head on.

Taichi’s gaze slips from Yamato’s eyes to his mouth. His grip loosens on Yamato’s shirt, hand sliding up Yamato’s neck. (Yamato’s heart starts beating fiercely under his gaze).

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Taichi murmurs, before his grip tightens on Yamato’s neck and he’s pushing Yamato against the wall and he’s kissing him.

Hard. Heady. Hungry.

(I need you. I love you, Yamato thinks, pushing back ferociously to meet Taichi’s kiss and wondering how he will ever breathe normally again).

*******

There’s nothing gentle or romantic about the way Taichi fucks him that night. It’s rough and frantic, and aggressive at times. But there’s something in the undercurrent that Yamato recognizes and longs for— something alluding to the biting, honest, wild content that has summed up their entire relationship. (Something that, when he tilts his head back, letting Taichi’s teeth and tongue scrape across his throat, gives him some hope).

It’s at the end, where a hint of tenderness shines through: Taichi rolls onto his back, arm trapped underneath Yamato, and Yamato’s head comes to rest in the junction between Taichi’s neck and shoulder. They settle, and Taichi’s fingers start to trace patterns on Yamato’s lower back. (Just like he used to, sketching out words and making Yamato guess, before Yamato went and destroyed everything). He’s not even sure Taichi realizes what his fingers are doing. Regardless, Yamato relaxes into the gesture and sinks further into Taichi’s chest, as his eyelids grow heavy.

“Stay with me,” Yamato murmurs later, when Taichi’s arm twitches where it lies snugly over Yamato’s naked waist. He’s already falling asleep, his head resting on Taichi’s chest, arm wrapped tightly over Taichi’s stomach.

“I should go home…” Taichi replies, quietly, starting to ease his hand out from under Yamato.

Yamato shifts closer, wrapping his arm tighter around Taichi. “No. Please,” he whispers, “Stay.”

“I—” Taichi starts, but Yamato tips his head upwards and cuts him off with a kiss.

“Stay.”

Taichi takes an audible breath in. His arm falls back against Yamato’s skin, then he whispers, “Okay. At least until you fall asleep…”

Yamato tries to shake his head. “Till morning…” he murmurs, as sleep starts to overtake him.

“Okay…” is Taichi’s hushed reply, but Yamato is already drifting off.

***

In the morning, the sun streams through and Yamato wakes alone.

The sheets are twisted around his waist and legs, keeping half of his body warm. He reaches a hand over to touch the other side of the bed, empty and only faintly warm to the touch.

(Yamato aches, heart, body, and soul.

‘ _This doesn’t mean anything_ ’, he hears echoing in his head.

It means everything, his heart says).

* * *

**Part II: Now, Peace**

_When it comes  
to love  
do not ever  
settle  
for anything  
less than magical._

_  
― Sanober Khan_

* * *

_\-- Two months later --_

“Yamato, you have to come out this evening,” Daisuke begs, leaning against Yamato’s kitchen counter. Ken sighs from the couch.

“I don’t want to, Daisuke,” Yamato scowls, pulling a beer from the fridge.

“Oh my god,” Daisuke says, stressing each syllable. “Stop sulking and moping around and come _out_ with us.”

“ _Why_?” Yamato asks, frustrated. (Yamato bristles, he’s not sulking. Just because Taichi hasn’t called him in two months, after _one_ night together, and Yamato’s been sticking close to home ever since, does _not_ mean he’s sulking).

“Because, we’re young, we’re beautiful, at least one of us is single, and it’ll be _fun_ ,” Daisuke insists.

“Yamato,” Ken calls from the couch, where he’s flipping through one of Yamato’s music magazines. “If you don’t agree, he’s just going to keep pestering you, and we’ll both be annoyed.”

Yamato sighs. “Fine,” he concedes. “Where are we going?”

Daisuke grins. “Why? Gotta figure out what outfit is best to wear? God, you are _so_ gay.”

Ken laughs from the couch. Yamato scowls and marches off to his bedroom.

“Don’t you laugh Ken, you’re no better,” Daisuke teases. “It took us forty-five minutes longer than I thought to even get here because _someone_ couldn’t decide—” Daisuke’s sentence is interrupted by a smack of a magazine hitting flesh and he lets out an emphatic _heeeey._

***

“Heeeey, Daisuke!” chirps a cheerful voice. “Who’s your friend? He’s cute.”

Yamato looks up to see Taichi sliding into the booth next to Daisuke, both grinning like idiots.

“Taichi,” Daisuke says, deadpan, before Yamato can even open his mouth. “This is Yamato. Yamato, my friend, Taichi.”

“Nice to meet you.” Taichi swings an arm over the back of the booth casually, leaning slightly into Daisuke. “So, Dai, your friend single?”

“Very single,” Daisuke confirms.

Next to Yamato, Ken sighs.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Yamato asks, staring at the two-idiot goggle-heads. (Yamato’s torn between scowling and cracking a smile so wide it splits his face in two).

“Is he always so pleasant?” Taichi asks Daisuke, grinning madly.

“Always.” Daisuke replies, grinning back.

“Good thing he’s gorgeous,” Taichi adds, stifling a chuckle.

“What is happening?” Yamato asks again, as Ken lets out another sigh.

Taichi ignores him. “Anybody ever told you, Yamato, that you look like the lead singer of that popular band from back in the day?” Taichi says, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, as if studying Yamato’s face.

“Oh yeah, he kinda does,” Daisuke agrees, placing chin in his hand. “What were they called again?”

Taichi and Daisuke look at each other and grin. “Knife of Ramen,” they announce together.

“Taichi, Daisuke…” Yamato scowls. (This whole thing is making Yamato head buzz a little, even though he can’t possibly be drunk).

“Though, darling,” Taichi adds, quickly, “That guy has nothing on you.”

Yamato looks at Ken for help. “‘No reason we can’t have a little fun’,” Ken mimics under his breath, rolling his eyes, clearly having listened to the planning portion of whatever this is.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Taichi asks, ignoring Ken’s comments and turning to Yamato.

“Again, what the hell…” (Beneath the confusion, his heart is beating _so_ fast).

Taichi sighs. “Come on, Yama, I’m trying to pick you up. It’s no fun if you don’t play along.” He turns back to Daisuke, returning to their game, asking, “Is he always so difficult?”

“Always,” Daisuke answers, nodding sagely.

Ken sighs for a third time, stirring his drink.

“Well, good thing I like challenging,” Taichi says, mad grin returning to his face. “So, gorgeous, how about that drink?”

“Um…” (Yamato’s at a loss for words, he’s so overwhelmed; his whole world, realigning in front of him).

“Damn, Daisuke. I could have sworn your friend was checking me out, but maybe I was mistaken. Guess I should be going…” Taichi starts to slide out of the booth.

“No!” Yamato essentially yelps, slightly too loudly and super _uncoolly._ (He’s never felt so uncool in his life, heart beating out of his chest like a damn schoolgirl). He reaches out, fingers grazing the lip of Taichi’s shirt as he starts to step away.

Taichi arches an eyebrow, leans forward slightly, expectantly. _Your move, Ishida_ , his eyes say.

“This is mean,” Ken mutters. Daisuke continues to grin.

“Drink. Yes,” Yamato stumbles for words. (In truth, he’s forgotten most of them). “Definitely.”

“Smooth, Yamato,” Daisuke laughs.

Taichi stands up and holds out his hand. Yamato stares at it for a second, before reaching out to place his own inside that hand. ( _That_ hand, the one he knows _so_ well, that’s held and saved him so many times before. He feels like he’s shaking in its grip).

“You okay?” Taichi asks, grasping Yamato’s hand tighter, as he pulls Yamato from the booth. He gives him a look and from that Yamato knows he _is_ shaking.

“Yeah, I—” Yamato stops, taking a second to collect himself.

(Two can play this game, he decides).

Then, he turns on the eyes, releases Taichi’s hand, and traces his fingers slowly down Taichi’s arms. “Just surprised someone so sexy spared a look at me,” he says, low and husky.

Taichi’s eyes widen for a second, surprised Yamato’s given in to his game, and then he laughs. (Bold and rich and Yamato’s heart swells, he’s missed him so much).

“Well, gorgeous, I definitely want to stare at you all night,” Taichi replies, teasing, and steers Yamato towards the bar.

Daisuke cheers. “Operation Omegamon is a success!” Daisuke proclaims, behind them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ken says back, “Don’t get too cocky, Cupid.”

***

A few hours later, the two of them file out of the bar, Taichi’s fingers grasping Yamato’s gently, as he leads them to wander through a nearby park.

“So,” Taichi says, tugging Yamato’s hand to pull Yamato into him. Taichi wraps his other arm around Yamato’s waist and moves his mouth so it’s an inch from Yamato’s ear. “What are my chances of getting a second date? Or… better yet, breakfast tomorrow?”

Yamato shivers. (He feels weak in Taichi’s arms. His mind is also begging to know what this all means).

“Is that a yes to breakfast?” Taichi asks, voice full of lust.

(Yes to whatever you want, Yamato wants to say. Yes to forever).

“Okay, enough,” Yamato says, instead. “What is happening here?”

(He feels like he’s losing his mind, for so many reasons).

Taichi laughs. “I was wondering when you’d crack.”

“Taichi,” Yamato sighs, “This is confusing.”

“You did way better than I expected,” Taichi teases. “You played along all night.”

“Taichi!”

“Okay, okay,” Taichi says, slowly, unravelling his arms from around Yamato and leading them to a nearby bench. He’s grinning.

(Yamato instantly feels the loss of warmth. He feels cold, even in the summer evening).

They sit. Taichi takes one of Yamato’s hands and holds it in both of his. Then, he says, “I’ve spent a lot of time over the past few months thinking. About you. About me. About what we were, and what we could be, again, maybe.” He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath that has Yamato on edge. “I’ve thought a lot, and… well, I’m not saying I forgive you”—Yamato stiffens, almost pulls his hand away—“but I do miss you.”

“Okay…” Yamato manages. (Yamato’s hearts beating fast in his chest).

“And, well, I think maybe—” Taichi swallows hard. “Not maybe. Sorry—I’m doing this wrong.” One side of his mouth tips up in a shy smile, and he corrects himself, “I _know_ I want to try this again.”

“Me too,” Yamato says quickly, in case it wasn’t obvious. (His heart is pounding).

Taichi cracks a smile again. “It might not be like the last time, I… I don’t know if I can get over somethings—”

“I’m sorry, Taichi, I—”

“Shush, I know you are,” Taichi says, pressing his forehead to Yamato’s. “It may not be like the last time,” he continues, “but… maybe it can be better. We can be better.”

“We’ve always made a formidable team,” Yamato says, softly.

“The best,” Taichi agrees.

Yamato smiles. Taichi leans back slightly to look Yamato in the eye, raising his hand to brush Yamato’s hair out of his face.

“So, what I am saying is that I love you,” Taichi says, smiling gently. “Fuck, Yamato, I am so overwhelming, immensely, _deliriously_ in love with you. I have been for a long time. I love you so fiercely, it scares me sometimes. There’s no one else for me Yamato, no one. You’re it. You’re who I want. You’re who I’ve always wanted. You’ve _always_ been enough for me. I never stopped loving you, not really. I know—I’ve always known, even if you forgot, you idiot—that we are supposed to be together.”

“I love you too,” Yamato replies, quickly. “I _want_ you too.”

(His heart is soaring now).

“I love you, Yama. I want to be with you, forever, for eternity. If you’ll have me.”

“You idiot, of course, I’ll—” Yamato starts, but Taichi cuts him off, mouth crashing against his.

(Fuck, finally, Yamato thinks).

It doesn’t take long for Yamato’s mouth to open under Taichi’s, intensifying the kiss. His hands slip into Taichi hair, tugging slightly to pull himself further into Taichi. Yamato slides himself forward on the bench, lifting himself slightly by placing one knee down on the bench so he can hover halfway onto Taichi’s lap.

“So, about that second date?” Taichi murmurs against Yamato’s lips when they break for breath.

Yamato laughs. “I was thinking breakfast…”

Taichi growls. “Oh, thank gods,” he says, before pulling Yamato fully into his lap and diving back to Yamato’s lips.

( _Soulmates,_ Yamato thinks.

_Destiny._

_Eternity,_ echoes throughout him.

 _Magic_ ).

* * *

_your hand  
touching mine.  
this is how  
galaxies  
collide._

_  
― Sanober Khan_

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished this. If you enjoyed, please leave a kudos, or if you're ambitious- a comment! Love hearing from folks. And in the shameless self-promotion lane, if you liked this and you haven't already, maybe check out my other fic? Thanks for reading! <3


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